I'm Not Telling You Anything
by TimeIsGalleons
Summary: Hermione's point of view at Malfoy Manor, specifically the torture scene. How did she endure the Cruciatus Curse for so long? Rated T for mild language and dark themes.


**A/N: I'm not sure why I'm so interested in writing Hermione-centric one-shots lately, but here's another, rather darker one. This takes place in the chapter titled Malfoy Manor of the seventh book in the scene where Hermione is tortured by Bellatrix. This part really got to me both when I read it and when it saw it in the movie version, but I always think of what it was like from Hermione's point of view. It may be a bit short compared to **_**The Brightest Witch of Her Age**_**, but I really liked this idea. Some bits of this, such as certain dialogue and the entire situation and setting, are taken from chapter twenty-three of **_**Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows**_**. Anyway, enough rambling. Enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything having to do with it. If you think I do, I'm afraid you will have to be immediately sent to St. Mungo's for some help with whatever jinx addled your brain. **

Hermione struggled fruitlessly against the tight ropes that bound her to Harry, Ron, Dean, and the weakened goblin. Even with Draco not giving a direct answer as to whether he recognized them or not, they were sunk. His mother had recognized Hermione, at least, from the occurrence last year in Diagon Alley, and his father had realized Ron was obviously a Weasley. This evidence not only very much pointed to the conclusion that the boy situated between could very well be Harry Potter, but also gave the room full of Death Eaters appalling incentive to summon Voldemort into their midst at that very moment.

Then, a door opened and Hermione's sense of dread heightened at the sound of a deep, menacing voice.

"What is it? What's happened, Cissy?"

Hermione felt Harry tense beside her as the tall, looming figure of Bellatrix Lestrange entered the room, her cold eyes focused intently on Hermione, who began to shake with fear.

"But surely, this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?"

Hermione's sense of dread peaked when Bellatrix uttered her name. The stony hatred with which Bellatrix said her surname was terrifying. She shook violently as she felt Harry and Ron's pointless struggles for freedom beside her. She was now incredibly still despite her fearful shivering. The idea of escape began to seep away from her. Her intuition, which far surpassed that of almost anyone her age, was telling her that she was in serious trouble.

Lucius, Greyback, and Bellatrix were now arguing over who was to take credit for Harry's capture. Bellatrix's shrill laugh at Greyback's last retort was cut short as her voice faltered. Hermione looked up to see what had caused the sudden change in atmosphere and saw Bellatrix's black eyes focused, no longer on her, but on the shining, ruby encrusted hilt of Gryffindor's sword. Her expression was panicked.

Bellatrix was suddenly shrieking and Stunning Scabior, who had been holding the sword, and shot a spell at Greyback that seemed to have forced him into an absurd kneeling postion on the floor.

"Where did you find this sword? Snape sent it to my vault at Gringotts!" she shrieked, the sword in her grip and wielded in Greyback's face.

When Greyback mumbled an answer, she waved her wand to release him and he ambled away from her as quickly as possible. She was seeming to radiate with panic and Hermione sensed how incredibly dangerous this would make the already formidable witch. She shook even harder, her heart pounding so loud she wondered whether Harry or Ron could hear it's distinct thumps.

"The prisoners must be placed in the cellar, while I think what to do!"

After minimal protests from Narcissa, Greyback was ordered to drag the prisoners down to the basement. Hermione almost sighed with relief at leaving the room and getting away from the deranged Bellatrix. Then there was a pause.

"Wait," Bellatrix said, seeming to decide something on the spot. "All except… except for the Mudblood."

Hermione's blood seemed to turn to ice. Her fear mounted and she stopped shaking. Her terror seemed to be beyond reaction.

"No!" she heard Ron scream, as though from the end of a long tunnel. "You can have me, keep me!"

Bellatrix smacked him hard and the sound echoed off the high ceiling like a gunshot.

"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next." Hermione began trembling again, her eyes swelling with tears. "Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them- yet."

Greyback caught the wand she threw to him and drew out a short, silver knife from under her robes. Hermione stared at it as Bellatrix used it to cut her bindings and snatched the roots of her bushy hair into an tight grasp. Hermione's face screwed up in pain and Bellatrix dragged her into the middle of the room. She released her and threw her down at her feet just as Hermione glimpsed Harry and Ron gazing at her in terror before being drug through a door at the other end of the room.

"Now," Bellatrix said in a soft snarl, bending down so that her face was almost an inch away from Hermione's. "_Where did you get this sword, you filthy little Mudblood?"_

"I-I d-don't…I m-mean w-we…"

"Answer me, now!" Bellatrix snarled, in her menacing whisper. "Now, you filthy little slut! _Crucio!"_

Just as the slamming of a door rang through the house, Hermione screamed. She seemed to hearing the sound from a distance. Her body was engulfed in flames, being pierced at every inch with blades coated in acid. The pain was blinding, her ears were ringing with the sound of her own anguished screams.

Just as soon as the torture had begun, it ended, and Hermione was left panting on the floor at Bellatrix's feet, tears falling in thick streams down her face.

She raised her face as much as she could muster and saw Bellatrix raising her wand again. She closed her eyes in horrifying anticipation as Bellatrix's voice raised into a alarming growl.

"There's plenty more of that, little miss Mudblood," she taunted as Hermione let out a soft sob. "Now, tell me what I need to know!"

Hermione almost obliged. Every pore of her body was telling her to end this, to never be subjected to such pain again. She almost confessed, right at that moment, exactly where the sword had come from. Her mouth opened dumbly-

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

Her jaw snapped shut immediately. That voice reminded her exactly what was at stake. There were people here that needed her, that needed her to endure, to be strong. Downstairs, in that cellar, were the two people for him she would do anything for: Harry and Ron. _Ron. _ He was yelling for her, screaming with almost as much agony as she had done just moments before.

And she refused to let him down.

"No," she whispered. Her voice was gruff and faint from screaming. "I-I'm not t-telling y-you any-_anything_."

Bellatrix's face was furious. She bard her blackened teeth and her expression twisted into the utmost rage. Hermione recoiled in terror.

"You filthy little dirt-veined beast!" she cried. "How _dare _you refuse an order from a witch! _CRUCIO!"_

Hermione screamed as the unendurable agony of Bellatrix's anger rushed over her, ripping and tearing her apart from the inside out. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she felt herself twist and writhe on the floor in futile attempts to extinguish the overwhelming waves of torture.

The pain stopped and Hermione was met, yet again, with the devastating desire to admit everything she knew. And again, Ron's muffled voice seemed to flood into her ears, calling her name. She would do anything for that voice, even endure this painful hell. She gritted her teeth as Bellatrix began screaming again.

"I'm going to ask you again!" Bellatrix shouted. "Where did you get this sword? _Where?_"

"We found it- we found it- PLEASE!" Hermione screeched, unable to prevent herself from begging as Bellatrix raised her wand once again and the now familiar, but no more bearable, agony pulsed through her veins. She recalled faintly, a small stirring in the back of her mind, in the Department of Mysteries when Dolohov had hit her with the unknown, fiery hex. She had thought that had been excruciating at the time. Now it seemed tame, as though it was a light pinch on her skin. She would take that a hundred times over rather than endure another moment of this.

"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it!" Bellatrix screeched as, once again, the pain vanished. "You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, _tell the truth!_"

Hermione was hit again with the Cruciatus Curse, but barely had time to scream before it was lifted once more.

"What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"

Bellatrix waved the shining silver knife in front of Hermione's face in emphasis of this statement.

Hermione gave way to sobs as tears streamed, thick and fast, down her face. She was undoubtedly going to die here. Regardless of the endurance Ron's voice supplied her, it could not save her if Bellatrix deemed her a useless source of information and decided to do away with her.

And then Ron would take her place. Ron would be the one up here, screaming in agony, and forced to expel information. Hermione could never allow that, never. She would rather endure the Cruciatus Curse for centuries than have Ron, or Harry for that matter, take it in her stead. Then, as though her mind had been ready with it all along, an idea formed and pushed itself to the forefront of her brain.

But she had no time to act upon it.

"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! _CRUCIO!_"

This pain was the worst yet. As Bellatrix's rage and panic mounted, Hermione's torment intensified. This curse didn't bring merely pain, that was too small a word. This pain was beyond torture, beyond agony. She could hear her own screams echoing sickeningly off the walls of the room. She heard Bellatrix's screeches mingled with her own, shouting out commands that she was far too incapacitated to understand. Along with all this, she heard, once again, Ron's voice. Albeit she could not understand it through the screams issuing from her own mouth, she heard his distinctive tone and knew what he must be shouting for.

_HERMIONE! HERMIONE! HERMIONE!_

It echoed through her mind in a loop. She forced herself to focus on it, to push it in front of the pain.

Then the pain ceased. Hermione began sobbing again, curling in a tight ball and clutching herself tightly. The remnants of the curse were still fresh and seemed to go down to her bones. She was shaking so violently she doubted she'd ever stop.

"How did you get into my vault?" Bellatrix was screaming again. "Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"

The comment struck something in Hermione's memory and she remembered what she'd resolved to do.

"We only met him tonight!" she cried through her sobs. "We've never been inside your vault…" And, thinking of Ron and Harry, who needed her now, she put her plan into action. "It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"

She clenched her teeth, expecting more pain, but it didn't come. Instead, Bellatrix screeched in a dangerously sarcastic tone, "A copy? Oh, a likely story!"

"But we can find out easily!"

Hermione's head jerked feebly in the direction of the voice. She had forgotten that there were other people here besides Bellatrix and herself.

"Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!" Lucius Malfoy said.

Draco, who had been standing next to his mother, was staring at Hermione. His face was paler than she had ever seen it and he jumped at being addressed by his father. He nodded once and walked briskly toward the black door that Harry and Ron had disappeared through what seemed like ages ago.

The room was utterly silent but for the muffled echoes coming from the cellar door and Hermione's soft weeping. The slamming of a door almost entirely drowned out a loud _crack_ from downstairs. No one in the room apart from Hermione seemed to notice it and she toyed with that idea that she had merely imagined it.

Draco reentered the room, dragging Griphook in his wake. He deposited him next to Hermione, careful not to look into her face, and went back to stand by his mother.

"Right," Bellatrix said. "Now, goblin. This sword," she held it out to him, "is it fake? Or is this little Mudblood-" she paused and directed her wand at Hermione, who instantely began to scream as the the ripples of agony coursed through her once more, "lying to me?"

Hermione's pain ceased and she panted heavily as Griphook examined the blade of the sword. She slid his hands up and down the shiny metal, gripped the sparkling hilt in his long-fingered hand. He examined the rubies.

Bellatrix was obviously very impatient. Unable to torture the goblin as he was performing such an important task for her, she pointed her wand, once again at Hermione.

"Hurry up, you filthy little beast. _Crucio!" _

Hermione writhed around on the hard wooden floor, screaming as hard as she could. The pain ended in a matter of moments, and just as it did, a loud, distinct, _crack_ filled the room.

"What was that?" Lucius asked, looking around the room. "Did you hear that? Was that noise in the cellar?"

Draco stepped away from his mother who gripped his arm and pulled him back.

"Draco- no, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!"

Lucius nodded at his wife and walked through a door on the opposite side of the room from the black one that led to the cellar. He went in and exited moments later with Wormtail, looking utterly petrified, following along at his wake. Everyone remained silent as he disappeared through the black door.

Everyone besides Hermione, who whimpered softly from the floor as tears continued to flow steadily from her eyes, sat in silence, waiting for some signal from Wormtail that nothing was out of the ordinary in the cellar.

After a few moments, Lucius Malfoy spoke up.

"What is it, Wormtail?" he called out.

"Nothing! All fine!" called a wheezy voice from the cellar.

Hermione's whimpers cut off. That voice sounded different than she had expected. It sounded friendly and familiar.

"Right then," Bellatrix whispered, clearing her throat and shaking her head slightly, as though to clear it. "Goblin, is this sword real or not?"

"I- I cannot be sure," Griphook muttered, refusing to meet her gaze.

"Well, move it along!" she exclaimed anxiously, waving her wand in a slashing motion and gouging a deep cut in Griphook's face. He let out a yelp and very nearly dropped Gryffindor's sword.

"Stop," Hermione moaned weakly. "Stop, leave him…leave him alone…"

"What? What did you say?" Bellatrix crouched down, leveling her face with Hermione's so that Hermione could smell her hot, rotten breath. "Standing up for the little goblin, are you, you Mudblood?"

Hermione sobbed again. "Just leave him _alone…_" she rasped.

Bellatrix smiled evilly before pointing the tip of her wand directly into Hermione's face. "You stupid girl," she whispered. "You are worth no more than he is. You're both filthy little disgraces to us all. It's time you learned some proper respect for _real_ witches and wizards," Her horrible smile grew broader, and Hermione couldn't help but cry again, feebly. "_Crucio._"

This was not the pain of anger. It was of pure hatred. It was the agony of prejudice and spite. Hermione's scream was louder than ever as Bellatrix showed her exactly what she thought of her.

This time when the anguish faded, all the fight Hermione had possessed, all the defiance she had harbored throughout this entire excruciating torture, was gone. She felt no more desire to fight.

Bellatrix stood and made her way over to where Griphook was cowering with the sword.

"Well?" she asked. "Is it the true sword?"

"No," Griphook replied promptly. "It is a fake."

Hermione vaguely registered the lie. Felt a very slightly twinge of curiosity burn through her intuitive mind as to why Griphook had told it.

"Are you sure? Quite sure?"

"Yes."

"Good," Bellatrix swept her wand one more through the air and slashed another deep gouge in the goblin's face. Hermione said nothing, but closed her eyes tightly.

"And now we call the Dark Lord!"

There was a pause in which Hermione assumed Bellatrix had pressed the Mark burned into her skin. She could not muster the energy to even whimper in fear.

"And I think," Bellatrix said, in a very satisfied voice, "we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her."

Hermione's eyes shot open and found Greyback, a grin spreading across his face.

"NOOOOOOO!"

The scream echoed from the far edge of the room. Hermione saw the vivid red of Ron's hair as he threw himself into the room. Bellatrix jumped and pointed her wand at him. Hermione tried to cry out a warning, but found herself to weak to summon her voice.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Ron cried, and Bellatrix's wand flew out of her hand.

Hermione's eyes followed the arch of the thin piece of wood until it was caught by none other than Harry who had entered the room behind Ron and began firing off spells of his own. Hermione's jubilation at seeing her two saviors was short lived as she was violently ripped off the floor. She felt a tight grip secure itself around a handful of her hair and yank her head back, exposing her neck. Hermione shut her eyes tightly.

"STOP OR SHE DIES!"

The scream issued from Bellatrix, whose face was right next to Hermione's.

Hermione heard the action in the room stop abruptly. A piercing silence filled the room for a moment.

"Drop your wands," said Bellatrix, gripping Hermione's hair tighter. Hermione felt the cold of something metal on her throat. "Drop them, or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is!"

Nothing happened. There was another moment's silence and then…

"I said drop them!"

Hermione felt a blade press across her throat. It was such a minor pain compared to everything else she had experienced that she didn't even flinch.

"All right!" she heard Harry shout as the clink of wood hitting the floor echoed through the room.

Bellatrix was talking again, but Hermione didn't want to hear it. She felt tears fall from her eyes again. They could have gotten out, they could have escaped. Harry and Ron could have, should have, gone on without her. She was annoyed with their nobility. Couldn't they see she would almost welcome death now? She had experienced so much pain it seemed death feel like falling asleep after a long day.

Closeted in her own thoughts, Hermione didn't hear the soft squeaking sounds the chandelier over her head was making. She Bellatrix throw her onto the floor and heard the ear-splitting crash as the chandelier fell on top of her limp form. The last thing Hermione registered were soft, yet strong arms, wrapping around her and pulling her from under the heavy chains and crystal and of the chandelier. A flash of brightest light, a streak of gingery red, and she lost consciousness.

**A/N:** **Phew, that turned out a lot longer than I thought it was going to be. It was also much more intense than I anticipated. I actually cried writing it. Anyway, please review if you liked it! Or even if you didn't, really, I'm not too picky. **


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